


The List of Things I Used to Be

by callmejude



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dream Sex, Hallucinations, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 05:51:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2954603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmejude/pseuds/callmejude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky can't tell who he is anymore, but he knows he isn't who he wants to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The List of Things I Used to Be

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Время прошедшее настоящее](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10903638) by [Ker_Ri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ker_Ri/pseuds/Ker_Ri)



> I'm sorry

You’re not who you were when he knew you. You sometimes wonder if you ever were that person. The memories are there. Some of them. The asset wasn’t allowed to know what they meant, but Steve tells you. He tells you every day. He has photographs and smiles and calls you by a name, like you’re allowed to have one.

You tried to kill him. You remember that clearer than anything he tells you. You remember lunging at him with your knife. You remember shooting him in the stomach. You remember slamming your metal fist into his face over and over, the fight long since out of him as he let his bones crack under your hand.

But he loves you. Even when he hurt you he begged you not to let him. You didn’t care about pain then, and it seemed to hurt him far more than it did you. Then he gave up. Asked for you to kill him, and you couldn’t. You didn’t even know why. You do, now, you think.

When he found you months later he held your face in his hands and called you Bucky. He had called you that on the helicarrier, as well, but it hadn’t meant enough to you then. It means something to you now, and it made you cry as he held you. You hadn’t cried in decades. 

You aren’t sure, but you think you may have loved him, too, once. You have memories that you know are of him, despite it being someone else. Someone small. He’s small and sick and you’re not who you are now, and you hold him while he sleeps. You have memories where he’s far too hot in your arms, or far too cold, and you remember the fear in thinking he’s going to die.

You’re not that person anymore. You can’t help him. He tries to help you now, but he can’t. You’re not like that anymore, you can’t be. They turned you inside out and tore out everything that made you human. You’re blank, now. Missing parts. You forget what year it is and have trouble responding when people talk to you. The asset wasn’t allowed to speak, but Steve likes it when you do.

Still, you say the wrong things a lot. You know you do, because Steve will stop talking, sometimes frown. You hate it. He deserves better. He deserves the person he thinks you were. The one who stayed up all night to make sure he was all right. The one who loved him. You want to love him again.

It’s possible that you do love him, still. You want him to be happy. You want to keep him safe. But you aren’t who he wants, not anymore. You don’t deserve to love him anymore. You certainly don’t deserve to have him love you.

Bucky wouldn’t let you near him. Bucky would’ve killed you to keep Steve safe. You wish you could do that for Steve, but Steve won’t let you. He can tell when you’re scared, when you’re angry at yourself. He doesn’t let you leave his sight whenever you are. Some nights, he sleeps next to you in your bed, his fingers linked with the ones on your right hand.

You don’t deserve him, and you know it. You’re pretty sure everyone knows it. Wilson and Stark and even Tasha. The only person who doesn’t know it is Steve.

Bucky knows it. Bucky hates you, because you’re who Steve is stuck with now. Bucky can’t come back, Bucky can’t protect him. All Steve has left is this shell of the man he wants, this ghost of someone who, seventy years ago, mattered to the boy who would become Captain America.

You want to be Bucky, so you try. You try so hard, but Steve can tell it exhausts you, and you can’t always keep it up. You can’t remember everything Steve remembers. You forget to eat, to wash your hair.

Bucky took care of Steve, but Steve takes care of you. Even when he shouldn’t. Even when he can’t. All you are is a burden.

But he loves you. He loves you, and you don’t deserve it.

“You’re all he’s got, you know,” Bucky tells you one night. And he doesn’t, not really, because you’re sane enough to know that’s not right, but he’s still there. He stands at the window in a military uniform you vaguely recognize, flipping the hat carelessly in his hands for a moment before setting it down on the windowsill.

You flex the fingers on your metal hand and Bucky flexes his own left hand, flesh and blood. You stare at him, but he just smiles. After a moment, he winks. If he’s as confused as you are, he’s not going to show it. 

“I mean, he’s got friends,” he specifies, “but you’re different. Special.” He nods to your side, and you follow the motion automatically. Steve is asleep, curled tight against you. You had a bad day today, and he knows it, so he didn’t let you sleep alone tonight. 

You look back up, but Bucky doesn’t. Bucky watches him as he sleeps, and you want to say you’re sorry.

“He needs _you,_ ” you say. “I’m not right.”

Bucky shrugs. “Get right, then. He doesn’t have me anymore. There’s just you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say finally, because Bucky acknowledging it makes it too much to not apologize. You’re not looking at Bucky though, instead keeping your eyes on Steve, just like he is. You reach out and run your hand through his hair, and Steve lets out a quiet sigh in his sleep. “I’m sorry, I want to be enough. I’m ruining everything.”

“You’d ruin more if you left,” Bucky says harshly, and you’re not expecting that. You look up, and Bucky is watching you now, his eyes cold. “You can’t leave him. He needs you.”

“I’m only hurting him,” you say in a voice more timid than you think you’ve ever used before. “I can’t remember...I can’t remember anything. He has to take care of me.”

Bucky laughs, and you aren’t sure why. “You think this is the first time he’s taken care of you?” he asks, his voice light. “You think he didn’t take care of me, too? Ain’t no way you’d’ve made it far enough to get here without that kid.”

“When he was sick…” you start pointedly, because you know if he could still get sick, if he were still frail and fragile, you’d never been enough to keep him alive.

“Yeah,” Bucky cuts in, “When he was sick. When he stuck his smartass nose where it didn’t belong. That’s all I was ever good for.” You don’t understand what Bucky means by that. According to Steve that’s not true at all.

“You were his best friend,” you say quietly. Your eyes are still on Steve, watching him sleep because you want to make Bucky proud. It’s what he would’ve done. “He loved you.”

“Yeah, he did,” Bucky says. He sits down next to Steve on the bed and smiles. “Fuckin’ idiot loved me way more than I deserved. Nearly got himself killed over it more than once. And now he loves you.”

“I don’t deserve it either,” you say softly. “I deserve it less than you ever did.”

“Well,” Bucky says, “Change that.”

“I can’t,” you answer, and your throat feels tight, the way it did when Steve held you close and called you Bucky over and over, until you finally called him Steve.

Bucky curls his fingers in Steve’s hair, like a gentle ruffle. Steve makes a soft little _huff_ sound, and you and Bucky both smile. “I’m gonna ask you somethin’,” Bucky says warmly. His eyes never leave Steve’s face, and it takes you a moment for you to realize he’s waiting for you to respond.

“Okay.”

“Who do you think is good enough for him?” Bucky asks, finally looking up from Steve to meet your eyes.

You shake your head. You know for a fact the answer isn’t you, but you can’t think of anyone else who is. “Nobody,” you say finally.

Surprisingly, Bucky smiles at that. “Bingo,” he says, and you frown. You aren’t sure you understand the point. “Look, Steve is better than a great guy. Lots of people are great guys. Steve is more than that. There isn’t even a word for what Steve is. You know that, don’t you?”

You nod.

“Good. The important thing is he’s willing to give you a chance, and as long as you know that he’s - as long as you know that there’s no one better, maybe you can work to be good enough.”

“I’ll never be good enough for him,” you say, watching Bucky slide his hand over Steve’s, easy and sweet and unlike you’ve ever been capable of doing.

“No, you won’t,” Bucky agrees with a smirk. He’s watching Steve sleep as if he’s caught sight of an angel. His left hand strokes his face, and you self-consciously clench your metal fist. Bucky is still talking. “No one ever will be. But he loves you, and you know the importance of that better than anyone.”

“Not better than you,” you point out, and Bucky smiles sadly.

“Yeah, well, if you’ll remember, I don’t exist anymore.”

“Oh, right. I’m shit at remembering,” you joke darkly, and Bucky laughs.

“He loves you,” Bucky says, meeting your eyes, “and you need to understand something, pal. That makes you the most important fucking person on this planet.” It sounds like a threat, the way he says it. You nod, and Bucky sits up, shifting over Steve to lean over you.

“You love him. I don’t think you know it, but you do.” You nod again, and Bucky smiles. He touches your face, almost as gently as he had Steve’s, and there’s no way you deserve that, so you flinch away.

“You would’ve been better for him,” you argue helplessly, but Bucky shakes his head.

“Dead folks aren’t ever better than living ones.” Your chest feels tight, and Bucky presses his forehead to yours. “No one’s ever gonna be good enough for Steve Rogers. But you know that, and he loves you, which makes you better than anyone else could be.”

You try and pull away, but Bucky has you pressed against the headboard. “It’s up to you to keep him safe now,” he says, his voice gentle and light and you don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve Bucky’s permission. You don’t deserve his understanding.

“I - I tried to kill him.”

“No,” Bucky smiles sympathetically. “That was someone else.”

There are tears in your eyes and you feel utterly foolish. You don’t even know what Bucky means. “What?”

Bucky chuckles, quiet and melancholy. “You may not be me, but you have to keep in mind you’re not him, either. Not anymore.” You shake your head and grab at his shirt, getting a handful of his dogtags.

You stare at them and frown. The information on them all feels foreign. You have the asset’s information carved into the inside of a metal plate on your shoulder, but none of it’s the same. 

“I’m more him than I am you.”

“If that were true,” Bucky says, reaching up to brush fingers through your hair, “You wouldn’t be lying in bed next to Steve worried about whether or not you’re good enough for the brat.”

“But I - I remember…”

“You remember killing people. But I did that in this uniform, too, you know. And you remember other things. Up at 4am dunking him in an ice bath because he’s running a fever of 103 again.”

“That was _you,_ ” you insist, your voice coming out thick and helpless.

“You remember it, don’t you?” Bucky asks, holding your face. “Same as everything else.” He’s cradling you as Steve did the day he found you, and you don’t deserve it from him, either. You can feel the tears falling, but you’re afraid to make a sound, keeping your jaw clenched tight.

“You’re someone new, and Steve knows that.” He doesn’t, you want to argue. If he did, he’d never be here, sleeping soundly next to you. Bucky shakes his head as if you’d spoken aloud. “He knows, and he’s gonna love you anyway, because he’s a stubborn jackass.”

“I don’t _deserve_ him,” you say tersely, your voice too loud in your ears, echoing somewhat from the lump in your throat. “I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve _any_ of this.”

“Don’t you ever let him catch you saying that,” Bucky says, a teasing lilt to his voice, “He’ll blow a gasket.” You don’t deserve that, either. To be treated lightly, like a friend. You shove at Bucky’s chest, but he doesn’t budge.

A strangled sob rips from your throat, and Bucky leans forward and kisses you to silence it.

He should hate you. You took Steve from him, you took his life from him. You’re all the worst parts of him amplified and pieced together like Frankenstein’s monster, but he’s holding you close, hands in your hair, and kissing you as softly as he would if you were Steve.

You don’t deserve it, but you need it so desperately that you cling to him like a lifeline, kissing back with everything you have because if this is forgiveness then you don’t want it to stop. You want it as long as he’ll give it to you.

When he pulls away, you keen against his mouth, needy and pathetic, but he just smiles, stroking your face. “He loves you,” Bucky repeats, tucking hair behind your ear. “He loves you, he loves you no matter what.” You shake your head, pulling him back into the kiss, because his words don’t make sense but if Bucky can forgive you then they might, eventually.

“You don’t need to worry,” Bucky whispers against your neck, “He’ll always forgive you. He’ll always…nothing you do will ever change that.”

“Stop,” You beg, breathless, “Stop. That’s not - it can’t be right.”

Bucky laughs against your throat, lacking any malice, and you taste your own tears in your mouth. “Steve’s always been too good for his own good.” He kisses down to your collarbone, and your head is spinning.

You don’t realize you’re hard until his hand is already on you, stroking firmly over your cock. “No one’s ever going to be good enough for him,” Bucky says quietly, kissing down your chest, “But that doesn’t mean you won’t be good to him.”

“I - want to…” You stumble over the words, because you don’t know what you did to deserve this, this level of forgiveness, this much trust. Bucky never let anyone near Steve. You’re a thousand times worse than anyone Bucky knocked out for Steve’s sake.

“You will,” Bucky insists, “You’ll be good to him, you’ll be good _for_ him. He needs you.” You shake your head, ready to insist again that you aren’t the one he needs, but Bucky cuts you off. “He doesn’t have me. He has you.”

You want to argue, but before you can he wraps his lips around your cock, and your mouth hangs open dumbly. You can’t keep track of any one thought, and all that comes out of your mouth are soft little whimpers as Bucky sucks you down.

You tried to kill him. You tried to kill him multiple times and Bucky still thinks you’d be good for him. Bucky, who loves Steve more than anything, who almost died for him several times before succeeding, who stayed up for weeks on end to make sure he lived through the night.

He loves Steve more than you think you ever can, but he loves you, too. You can tell as he watches you from under his eyelashes as he works his mouth over your cock. He loves you, and he wants to forgive you, because what you are isn’t your fault. And he wants you to know that.

Hands shaking, you grab fistfuls of his hair. You want to tell him to stop, because you shouldn’t get to have this, but it feels so good and your eyes are stinging and you thrust forward, down his throat. He groans, needy, and so do you. Your hands clench, and you wince at the feeling of metal fingers pulling his hair, but he doesn’t. He digs the nails of his left hand into your thigh, and you gasp.

You drop your head back and fuck into his mouth, his jaw slack and inviting and he trusts you. He shouldn’t. He should hate you, but you know he doesn’t. You know, you just don’t know why. He’s giving you so much more than you deserve, and it’s so good. You should stop, you know that, but you don’t want to, and he won’t make you.

It doesn’t make sense that Bucky thinks you’re worthy of Steve. There’s no way to make you a logical choice after everything you’ve done. But maybe it isn’t about that. It feels like it should be. Steve deserves a relationship that makes sense, that anyone can understand. But that isn’t what he gets because it isn’t what he wants.

And Bucky knows that, you realize. Bucky forgives you because he has to. Because, despite everything telling the idiot he shouldn’t, Steve loves you, and he always will. And no one will ever be the person Steve deserves, but you’re who Steve wants, and that’s what matters.

You wake up with a jolt, still thinking, for a split second, that you’re coming down Bucky’s throat as you become aware of Steve’s arms around you. "Bucky,” Steve hisses, his hands on your face, “Bucky, Jesus, are you okay? You’re drenched in sweat.”

You want to laugh, but you’re so relieved to hear your name that you drag his mouth down to yours, kissing him hungrily until he pulls away to catch his breath.

“B - Bucky, what…?” he asks, winded, and you can see him blushing even in the darkened room. You can remember how he blushed before, from the top of his forehead all the way down to his waist, and somehow you know that it hasn’t changed.

“I love you,” you tell him firmly, because you don’t deserve him, but that’s never mattered.

All that’s ever mattered is what Steve deserves, and he deserves to know.

**Author's Note:**

> title from Mineshaft by Dessa


End file.
